


let's talk about feelings

by campanellaes



Series: shuaaaaaake [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, P5R Spoilers, Persona 5 Spoilers, Post-Canon, Slow Dancing, Some angst, Sort Of, Underage Drinking, clenches fist........., featuring background morgana, it's an alt 2/2 and a post-royal reunion all in one lmao, shuake, vignettes of canon-adjacent events
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28451118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/campanellaes/pseuds/campanellaes
Summary: a year later, goro shows up at ren's doorstep like a dream he's never quite woken from.or; one time that they talked about their feelings and four times they didn't
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Amamiya Ren, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Series: shuaaaaaake [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102925
Comments: 7
Kudos: 83





	let's talk about feelings

**Author's Note:**

> i love these two so much... yeah  
> this is my first time posting on ao3 so if I messed up w the tags or something please let me know!

The first thing that hits Ren when he opens his front door is an overwhelming sense of deja vu.

The second thing is Goro's shoulder, brushing past Ren as he sweeps in over the threshold and into the tiny entryway of the house. Muggy air and the ozone of a spring storm follows him in, and then he's just standing there, dripping water onto the floor and staring at Ren expectantly as if he wasn't the one who just barged in with no warning. The rain continues to fall in sheets outside, thundering on tin roofs and empty pavement, threatening to drift in through the open door as Ren stares uncomprehendingly back at Goro.

Ren blinks a couple of times, squeezes his eyes shut, counts slowly to three. When he opens them again Goro is still there, still soaked to the bone, rain dripping from his hair and clothes into a puddle forming at his feet, staring impatiently at Ren as if waiting for him to say something already. A strange feeling settles its way into Ren's stomach against the noise of the downpour outside. He reaches for the sensation, trying to figure out how he's supposed to feel about seeing Goro Akechi standing in his childhood home, apparently back from the dead a second time, but it slips away from him, too nebulous and half-formed, and his mind draws a blank.

"You're... alive," Ren says, rather unnecessarily, just to say something.

"I suppose I am," Goro replies. His voice is coolly dignified and betrays nothing as always, and without warning, Ren's heart clenches painfully with longing. He really, truly thought that he had lost that voice forever, that it only existed in the scraps of conversation he wore down to tatters replaying over and over in his head. Hearing it again now, after all this time, it's- such a rush. He missed its warm, honeyed timbre so much, and the way that those sharp red eyes had of cutting right to the heart of him— yearning suddenly swells behind his throat, bright and painful. He swallows it down, tells himself to be calm, be cautious. This is— this is just like January, when Goro appeared at Leblanc in the early morning unannounced in order to make a deal to destroy the false reality and also his own existence.

"So, um." Ren's voice comes out rough and uneven, and he clears his throat. "Here to make another deal to stop the end of the world?" he jokes, or tries to, but it just hangs awkwardly in the tense air between them.

"No. No, nothing like that. I—" Goro fixes his gaze on the wall behind Ren. He opens his mouth, and closes it again without saying anything. Ren waits for him to continue, but he just shuffles awkwardly and suddenly seems to take up much less space than before.

Ren sighs. "Let's go sit down. I'll make you some coffee." He closes the door, shutting out the sound of the rain, and the quiet that follows is almost suffocating.

"Yes. Right. I... would appreciate that." Goro takes off his shoes and leaves them by the door, and follows Ren into the hallway.

As they make their way to the kitchen, Ren is suddenly self-conscious of the space he's been living in. They walk past the living room, couches with matching throw pillows neatly arranged around a glass coffee table like a page from a furniture catalog, everything covered in a fine layer of dust. He never expected a guest, and certainly not the one person he's been desperately wishing to see again for more than a year, despite knowing that this time he was gone for good and wasn't coming back. Wouldn't even want to come back, would never want to stay, given the chance. Since moving back to his hometown, Ren's days passed in blur of sleep and school and the sharp, persistent ache in his chest, putting off responding to his friends' texts for as long as possible, fielding Morgana's concerned questions, drinking too much coffee, trying not to think about Goro Akechi for more than five fucking minutes and failing miserably. And so things in the house tend to settle down where Ren leaves them and doesn't have the energy to move them again, and they pile up around wherever he spends his time until Morgana forces him to clean, the last occurence of which was only a few days ago so all things considered the kitchen doesn't look as bad as it could be. Out of the corner of his eye he watches as Goro presumably surveys the scene— the dining table covered in scattered papers and empty mugs and random trinkets, the dishes stacked in one side of the sink, a dirty pan left on the stove, the groceries he got yesterday sitting on the counter that he still hasn't put away. He waits for some snide remark about how this place is an even bigger mess than the attic, but Goro remains uncharacteristically silent.

Ren gestures at the dining table, and Goro pulls out one of the clunky wooden chairs, takes off his wet jacket and drapes it across the back before he sits down, movements careful and measured. Ren shoves aside some of the clutter on the countertop, grabs two clean mugs from the dishwasher, and sets about making a pot of coffee. Between the steady rhythm of the downpour outside coming in through the window he left open for Morgana and the noise of the coffee maker, what would have been a stiflingly awkward silence is instead a sort of expectant quiet, and Ren thinks that if he closes his eyes he could imagine that he's standing behind the bar at Leblanc, trying not to stare too long at the pretty detective sitting at the bar. But he keeps his eyes open, and lets them drift to Goro like it's muscle memory. He's sitting on the edge of the chair with his back perfectly straight and his shoulders tense, glaring down at the table littered with the detritus of Ren's schoolwork like it's personally wronged him. He brushes his hair out of his eyes impatiently, soft wispy strands that escaped from the ponytail at the nape of his neck. His hair seems a bit longer than it was the last time Ren saw him. Is it evidence that this Goro sitting here is real and thus not immune to the passage of time, or is Maruki just more detail oriented this time around, Ren wonders idly. He entertains the idea of tossing Goro a dish towel to dry his hair with just to see his reaction, but then Goro looks up and catches him staring, and all his thoughts immediately leave his brain.

Goro's gaze bores into him, and he forgets how to breathe. It sends a familiar, tingling heat worming through his gut, how no one else has ever looked at him like this and probably no one else ever will, a heady thrill through his core from how Goro used to look at him just like this before he would approach, soft and stealthy as a predator, eyes smouldering with the hunger of wildfires, and he would—

The coffee maker beeps and Ren jumps. He quickly turns around and busies himself with pouring the coffee, hoping Goro didn't see the effect he had on him just by fucking looking at him funny. God, their chemistry really makes them act like utter disasters around each other. He wills his heart rate back down to normal as he adds sugar to their coffees, one scoop for his and two scoops for Goro's, and puts on his best poker face as he carries them back to the table.

"Do you live alone?" Goro asks as Ren sets his coffee down in front of him. He immediately wraps his hands around the warm mug and takes a slow sip. His eyes close for just a second like he's savoring the taste, and Ren holds back a surge of pride.

"That's rather out of the blue. Trying to profile me, mister detective?" Ren plops into his usual seat at the corner of the table, pushes his laptop out of the way and puts his mug down on some long-abandoned math homework. Goro is sitting diagonally from him on the other side of the corner, not quite next to him but not quite opposite him either.

"You're clearly the only person responsible for the state of this place." Goro's looking at him again, but there's no trace of the fire from earlier. "You're letting dust gather in the parts of the house that you don't use or don't care for, and there's no one to pressure you to keep the areas you do use clean. Most of your groceries are instant noodles. I know what living alone looks like."

Ren blinks. "You almost sound like you're concerned for me."

Goro looks away and makes a sound that might be a laugh. "If I didn't know better, I would think the same. This kitchen is even worse than that attic was. Of course that would be cause for concern."

There it is, the remark comparing it to the attic. He decides to ignore it. "Well anyway, Mona lives here too. So you're wrong. I don't live alone." The usual petty triumph of proving Goro wrong about something sparks and then fades into restlessness. Ren folds his arms on the table and rests his head on them. Would the real Goro really waste this much time on pointless, inane conversation? The dreamlike, ambient light tracing his form certainly looks real enough, as does the water still dripping from his hair, or the soft shadows drawing out the delicate features of his face. The easy, practiced grace of his movements, the elegant cadence of his voice even when he's saying these mundane things— all deeply familiar, all designed to disarm Ren specifically. The rain drums on the inside of his skull and he wonders if it would be so bad if this isn't real.

Goro regards him with a level gaze, the one that's always been frustratingly difficult to read. "I suppose a year spent thieving would have been lucrative enough for you to live off comfortably by yourself. Or have you picked up another array of equally dubious part time jobs since then?" He takes another sip of coffee.

"Hey, all of my part time jobs were legit. What's so seedy about a high schooler working at a bar?" He misses the atmosphere of Crossroads, honestly. It wasn't Leblanc, but some nights it felt kind of close. "I got a job at a sketchy convenience store here though. We sell milk past its expiration date to customers. It's completely morally bankrupt."

"So you're doing well by yourself these days?" Goro says flatly, unimpressed as usual. "I never took you for the responsible type."

"I'm offended that you think I'd ever stoop to being responsible," Ren fires back, earning him an annoyed look, and a small smile that Goro tries to hide by putting his hand over his mouth. Something familiar twinges in ren's chest (if this isn't all some cosmic joke then maybe he'll get to make Goro smile for real someday), and he fishes around for another stupid thing to say. "I'm a hardened criminal, you know. I made over nine million yen from selling Metaverse junk and didn't pay a single yen of tax on it," he says.

"Ah, yes. Tax evasion. Your most glamorous crime." Goro rolls his eyes and drains the last of his coffee before he sets his mug down on the table with an odd sense of finality, his expression carefully neutral. "Ren, your parents... they aren't around, are they?" Goro asks, his tone conversational.

Ren shrugs and turns his face further into his arms. "No, not really. They haven't been for a while."

"Shame. I'm sure they were wonderful people, I would've... loved to meet them." Goro says, rather scathingly, and honestly Ren finds it hilarious that his parents have managed to make such a strong impression on Goro despite being thoroughly absent from the situation. Hilarious, but oddly heartwarming that Goro would loathe them so much on his behalf.

"They're not dead, Goro, they're just overseas on a business trip." Ren pauses. "Well, I guess it's kinda the same thing. All I've seen of them in over a year is their money."

"Is that so."

"The last time I saw them was during my trial, so." Seeing Goro's expression, he adds, "Honestly, they're not bad people. If you do ever get to meet them, please don't murder them." If maybe-apparitions are even solid enough commit murder.

Goro huffs and turns away, crossing his arms. "You don't feel any sort of bitterness towards the people who sent you away for a year and then didn't even care enough to welcome you back?"

"Oh, yeah, I was absolutely bitter at first, and I still am when I let myself think about it too much." Ren sits up again, casually trying to get a better look at Goro's face to gauge his reaction. "I tried to hold onto it because I thought it might be better than feeling nothing, but it's kinda hard to want to put energy towards staying mad at them when they haven't been an active part of my life for years. It just doesn't really matter at that point, you know?"

Slowly Goro uncrosses his arms, still visibly tense. He sets his hands on the table and stares down at them, his face the picture of composure. Ren is struck by the urge to reach across and take his hand, but something holds him back— touch would mark some kind of acceptance of this, real or unreal, would shift him past a point of no return. "Personally, I can't quite understand your ambivalence, nor your complacency, if that's how you really feel," Goro says to the table. "But perhaps it's better this way. You have... better things with which to drive yourself forwards than anger." He opens his mouth to say more, closes it again, presses his lips into a thin line.

"Yeah. I..." Ren takes a breath. "I have friends that I don't want to let down. They're what keeps me going, a lot of the time. Honestly, meeting them was the best thing to come out of being sent to Tokyo." Goro is still not looking at him. "...and you, of course. I got to meet you, didn't i?"

Finally, Goro's eyes flick up to meet Ren's, and he smirks, bitter and sardonic. "Whole lot of good that did you, meeting me."

"You have no idea." He's bursting with earnestness, longing that he can't quite hide anymore. Why do they have to do this whole dance every time?

Goro drops his gaze. He pulls his hands off the table into his lap, retreating into himself, and it feels strangely like a loss. And it's such a small thing but Ren wishes he could turn back the last ten seconds and reach out before it's too late.

"Do you really find betrayal and attempted murder that endearing?" Goro says it lightly like it's a running joke between them, because anything more would be unbearable.

Ren sighs. "That's not what this is about. Besides, you saved us, in the end. You—"

"Did you really think I did that to save you?" Goro's glare cuts through him effortlessly. "Have you forgotten what kind of a person I am?"

No. He's never thought that, not really, just that the rest of the Phantom Thieves thought Goro Akechi died to save them, so he went along with it, because maybe looking away from the truth was okay in moderation. And maybe it was selfish, but they didn't understand Goro the way he did, anyway.

The confirmation shouldn't feel as satisfying as it does, but alas.

Ren sighs again. "Are you- are you here to stay, and talk about this for real? You're not gonna run out on me?"  _ Am I going to wake up to find that you're no longer in this reality? _

A frown, a pointed look. "I do not run out on people. Actually, if I recall correctly, you were the one who said you didn't want to talk about it."

"That was then. Things have— changed, obviously, because you're— I mean, I don't know if—" Ren cuts himself off in frustration and rakes a hand through his hair. Things have changed. How he feels about them... hasn't, really. Does he want to unpack this? He probably should. It would certainly be conducive to a healthy relationship, if Goro is willing to make a good faith effort to do the same. He's not prepared for this, he wasn't given any time— he needs at least a few more minutes or actually a few more years to figure out how he feels about— all this. He casts about for some kind of diversion but his stupid traitorous eyes keep landing on Goro's unreadable expression, so he decides to run with it. "Do you... want to change into some dry clothes first before we dive into this?" He immediately cringes after saying it.

"You're remarkably inhospitable, waiting this long to even offer," Goro says lightly, and then the two of them make their way back to the staircase by the front door. The house feels less dreary than before, weak sunlight streaming in through half-opened blinds, the air settled into a comfortable quiet broken only by their soft footsteps on the cheap linoleum. When did the rain stop? It had to have been more than a few minutes ago, but neither of them had noticed.

Ren leads them up the stairs and to his room at the end of the hallway. Everything feels a bit surreal, tilted a few degrees on its axis and drenched in watery sunlight, Goro's presence at his back following him like a ghost through this place suffused with old memories. They clash in his head, the strange haziness of the childhood he spent in this house and the heavy, muted tension that surrounds Goro like a fog. It really is odd, meeting him anywhere that isn't Tokyo— it's more like a dream, where people exist outside of their usual context anywhere they please and the dreamer accepts it without question.

They drift into Ren's bedroom, half the size of Leblanc's attic and painted a cheery color, the afternoon sweeping in through the window and filling the room ceiling to floor. On autopilot, Ren goes over to his dresser and rifles through it, pulling out an old t-shirt he forgot he had and a comfortable pair of pants he's probably only worn once, and turns around to see Goro hovering in the doorway, eyes fixed on the wall behind Ren, and belatedly Ren realizes what he's looking at.

On his wall is a collection of polaroids that he took in January when they were working on infiltrating Maruki's palace. There's a group picture of all the Phantom Thieves at billiards and another of them at karaoke, an artsy photo of Yusuke drinking coffee, and a few of Ren goofing off with Ann and Ryuji, but most of them are pictures of Goro. In some shots Goro is looking at the camera, wearing a disdainful expression, and in a couple he's being pulled into a blurry, out of focus selfie with Ren. But Ren's favorites are the candids, taken surreptitiously and carefully shoved into his jacket pockets, never thinking his subject would lay eyes on them. In all of them, Goro is looking away from the camera at something out of frame, unaware that his distant, melancholy expression is being crystallised in a moment in time by Ren's camera. The polaroids are pinned haphazardly to the wall, then secured with clear tape as he ran out of pushpins— mementos of a reality that never was, a person for whom he desperately tried to collect proof of existence to— what? To show that he remembers Goro for who he really was, even if everyone else is happy to forget him and move on? To remind himself that their time in the false reality was the realest thing they ever had together, in a way? To say that he loved him— loves him still? It all feels so shallow, now.

To his credit, Goro doesn't look all that shaken when he takes the clothes from Ren, but he keeps letting his gaze drift back to the photo collage. Ren can only hope that it's flattering rather than unsettling for him to see his own face plastered all over the wall. There wasn't a chance to take them down before he saw them, anyway.

"If you want to change in the bathroom, it's just down the hall. Or you... can change in here. I don't mind."

"It'll be faster if I just change here. That is, unless you can't keep your hands to yourself?" Goro says with a completely straight face.

"Depends on if I like what I see," Ren deadpans. He sighs and goes to sit on the edge of his mattress, bringing his legs up to rest his heels on the bed frame. He shoves his hands in his lap and pointedly stares at his carpet as Goro carelessly drops his wet clothes in a pile and pulls on the clean set of clothes.

Ren only spaces out for about half a second, but he blinks and suddenly Goro is there and sitting down next to him before he can process it. The old mattress creaks and dips under their weight, and they shift closer together, two celestial bodies feeling each other's gravitational pull. Their shoulders are just barely touching, almost close enough to let impulse take over, but Ren doesn't move. If he doesn't look at Goro now, then he might be able to make this fragile moment last forever.

"Ren." The voice next to him speaks softly, and commands his full attention.

Slowly, Ren turns his head. Goro is backlit by the window, wreathed softly in a halo of golden sunlight, and for a moment he looks just like the beautiful, relentless angels that had tried to fell Ren before he reached the false god, urging him to give in, all of his wretched longing coalesced into a deadly corporeal form. Goro watches him in his usual inscrutable manner, so overwhelmingly familiar and intimate that it feels like a memory of touch, eyes dark and knowing and full of something that makes Ren feel hazy at the edges, like he's the one that's not real, like maybe it doesn't matter if none if this is real, because he wants this. He wants it so badly.

He doesn't dare blink, because this is just another perfect illusion. Another kind lie.

"Ren," Goro whispers again, impossibly soft. He watches Goro's lips move around the shape of his name. He remembers how soft they were, how warm, how intoxicating it was to taste his own name on them. What he wouldn't give to lean forwards and drink of their wine once more. It wouldn't take much, now, just an inch or two. When did they get so close together?

Ren's hand goes to gently cup Goro's face. Goro's eyes flutter shut, the lines of his face easing into something far gentler, and he exhales, careful and measured— but Ren can feel him lean ever so slightly into the touch, his warm breath lingering on Ren's wrist, and he can't help but think that it felt just like this too, in that other reality, blissful and warm beyond compare. The only difference is that now he's completely hollow, flotsam carried swiftly by a current through the sea of dreams, always to end up back at Goro's side, always to be washed away again by the next tide and lose him once more.

God. Or whoever is pulling these strings— will they ever know peace? He just wants this one thing. This one person. Please.

Ren closes his eyes. Just this once, let it be real.

He leans in and comes untethered from the world.

\--

It's warm for a November night.

The lights of Kichijoji shimmer all around them, shop signs and streetlamps aglow in the late hour. As they begin the walk back to the train station, Ren drags his feet more than usual, because. Well.

"Thank you for the lovely evening, Ren. I'm glad we both got to relax a bit, despite everything."

The streets are still abuzz with people enjoying the nightlife, meandering with a carefree aimlessness that Ren envies, snippets of their mundane conversations floating past his ears. He filters them out in favor of hanging onto every honeyed word that comes out of Akechi's mouth, turning them over a dozen times each in his head as he tries to commit every part of this night to memory. The way the lights feel just a bit brighter than normal, the satisfyingly crisp autumn air, the aromas of alcohol and fried food drifting from the alleyways. The muffled bass of live music from somewhere down the street thrumming through his core, the way Akechi is looking at him with a little half-smile and part of his face cast in shadow.

"Yeah, I— me too."

They had spent the afternoon wandering through Tokyo together, and as it bled into evening they found themselves settled into the dark, inviting atmosphere of the jazz club. They sat on the same side of the table in the corner and as the hours flew by they talked and maybe— definitely— flirted and slid in closer to each other, close enough to whisper or to see the low lights dance in Akechi's eyes when he smiled, to hear him hum along to the melody floating through the background, but never quite touching. Always just out of reach. Ren thinks that if he yearns any harder he's going to explode, but they're coming up on midnight and he's running out of time, so he might as well just admit defeat and be blown into a million tiny pieces.

They've only walked about two paces out the door of the jazz club and onto the side street, but Ren slows down even more, looking for any excuse to stall a little longer. He could bend down and pretend to tie his shoe, maybe— oh, these shoes don't have laces. Too late, he's already stopped on the side of the street, and so has Akechi, who tilts his head (oh fuck, that's cute) and gives Ren a quizzical look. "Is something the matter?"

Ren opens his mouth to deflect with something witty, to keep them moving and make it on time to catch the last train home, but what comes out instead is "Does this really have to end?"

Okay, maybe the night's gone on too long, he's too tired. Being this honest with Akechi is never a good idea, least of all now. Seeing how far he can push isn't supposed to be such a thrill when his teammates' lives are hinging on his actions.

"I know. Believe me, I wish we could have a little more time tonight, but I'm afraid I have things I need to take care of." Akechi glances down at the ground, then looks back up at Ren through his long eyelashes. Always playing coy. It makes Ren's heart beat a little faster and he hates himself for it. "I know we're rivals and all, but spending time in your company like this is very meaningful to me." he pauses. "I suppose what I mean to say is... I want you to know that I don't take any of this for granted."

At this point Ren is pretty sure that Akechi has no tells, but even without those he knows that has to be a lie. The bastard's planning to murder him in about two days and he has the audacity to not only say that Ren means something to him but to sound so sincere about it too. If he can flawlessly pretend that he's not a homicidal maniac, then of course he can pretend that he likes Ren enough to spend all this time with him, so he really should end this conversation before he spirals any deeper, just turn around and walk to the train station— "I meant in general. Do we really have to stop seeing each other?"

Akechi shifts his briefcase from one hand to the other, sets it on the ground, tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "I'm afraid so. I'll be busy trying to catch the true culprit of the mental shutdowns, and you'll want to lay low for a while after Sae's change of heart. It would be for the best if this is the last time we see each other like this."

The last time. It still stings to hear it out loud. Akechi's reasons are complete bullshit, of course, but the finality still rings true. If everything goes according to plan, in a few days' time Ren will be declared dead on national television, and Akechi will rise as a star of the masses, the righteous ace detective who triumphed over the Phantom Thieves. Whatever strange connection they've built between them (as allies? as friends? something more?) will be irreparably destroyed. As if that even means anything when apparently none of it was real in the first place. And yet that didn't stop him from agreeing to meet up with Akechi tonight for soft jazz and quiet conversation and drinks that stained his tongue blue. Just one last time.

How did this all happen so fast? He isn't ready for it to end. If only he could live in this night forever.

"I wish I got to spend more time with you," he hears himself say. Meaningless, his brain chastises, meaningless because he's only doing this so that the knife will enter your back a little easier when the time comes.

Akechi laughs self-deprecatingly, a touch sharper than the one he does on TV. "Is that so? And here I was, thinking you'd be all too happy to leave me behind once this is over."

Ren blinks incredulously. Akechi is way too dedicated to his nice-boy act. "Isn't it a bit too late to worry about that? It's been months, now. Even if I didn't want anything to do with you, you're not exactly giving me a choice anymore." 

"Hah. Well, I suppose if you think about it that way, then it doesn't matter at all." Akechi brushes his bangs out of his eyes, looks up at Ren a little too carefully. "Perhaps I'm just being foolishly sentimental, but... I would like to think that this did matter."

"Guess I'm just as foolish, then." Really, foolish is a gross understatement for how hard he's fallen for dumb murderous Akechi and his stupid pretty face and all the slightly fucked-up ways that they're alike. Not to mention the butterflies he gets when a text pops up and it's Akechi asking if he wants to meet up, or that he's started thinking of their outings as dates just to torture himself. "I really like y- hanging out with you. I promise I don't just have you around to pass the time, or anything like that."

"It's rather illogical of me to think that, I know." Akechi ducks his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Did he catch Ren's slip? He's not a detective for nothing. "Still, it's nice to know that this wasn't as one-sided as I thought. Although... like you said, it's a bit too late for that now, isn't it. Perhaps in another life, we... could've been more."

Not one-sided. Could've been more. He latches onto it and lets everything else slide out of his brain. "I don't know. is it too late?" He ignores his common sense screaming at him that yes, you idiot, it's been too late since day one, and it's especially too late now, too dangerous, too close. He drifts even closer without really meaning to, and blames it on something about the night drawing people to each other.

"Some things just aren't meant to be," Akechi replies. It's profoundly unfair how beautiful he looks in this lighting, shadows accentuating the lines of his cheekbones and the curve of his jaw, darkening his eyes, softening the rest of his edges until he blurs into the inexorable thrum of the night around him like he belongs to it, at home in a darkness much larger than himself, larger than the whole of Tokyo. What really gets Ren is the idea that he might never truly know what lies within that darkness— he wants to know Akechi, wants to understand what drives him and what he holds close to his heart, and why he'll never have a place there. It's unfair that he has the absolute gall to exist like this within arm's reach of Ren and expect him to concede that it's too late, that there's nothing they can do. That they're just one of those things that were never meant to be.

But maybe for tonight they can make believe that they're just two ordinary people, extraordinary in each other's eyes, trying not to let the night end and standing a little too close to be just friends. They aren't really friends and never will be now, anyway, so what's one more lie between them? 

"I want to keep seeing you," Ren murmurs. It can't happen. It's never going to happen.

"I know. I—" Akechi glances down, then back up, at a loss for words. "I'm... I'd like that, too." He tilts his head just so, and the shadows slide away to bathe his face in the glow of the city. 

One of them shifts just a little closer. Everything else fades away.

"Can I kiss you?" Ren whispers. This is a bad idea. He doesn't care.

"Yes," Akechi whispers back, soft and urgent. So Ren just doesn't think, and he takes Akechi's face into his hands and kisses him. 

Oh god, they're so close together. Akechi's lips are so soft. There's an arm wrapped around Ren's waist and long eyelashes brushing his cheek and everything is so warm and he's probably melting into Akechi's arms. It's so, so good and it's over before he can process that it actually happened.

They pull apart slowly, just barely enough to breathe. Reluctantly, Ren opens his eyes, sees his own wonder and misery and fire reflected on Akechi's face. There's just something so fucking wrong with the idea that this is the end for them- he leans in and kisses Akechi again.

It's slower and sweeter this time, and neither of them wants to let go. They're even closer than they were before, bodies pressed flush against each other, clinging to sensation to forget their circumstances, to ward off the passage of time around them. One of Akechi's hands is tangled in Ren's hair, pulling him in deeper as their lips part slightly and— god— Ren has never done this before and he's pretty sure Akechi hasn't either but the euphoria of it all could buoy him up into the stratosphere.

Sometime, somehow, they float back down to earth, and the city fades into existence around them again like old static. They're still only an inch apart, nothing left between them except for about five million things Ren still wants to say to Akechi, but he doesn't say them. They both know it's over. 

A moment, a breath. "I— I should go," Akechi finally says, his voice low and rough. Even in the low light it's easy to tell how flushed his face is. He doesn't move.

"Okay," Ren says dumbly, and leans in again.

Their lips barely brush together before Akechi pushes him away gently. "Don't," he whispers. "I can't— we're going to miss the last train."

Yeah. The train.

Ren pulls away, and Akechi's face sinks back into shadow. They start walking towards tbe station, still close enough that their shoulders brush together, stealing glances at each other, stealing a few more seconds of this impossible night. All the lights witness them silently as they pass by in a blur, their secret kept by the glow. Ren wonders if he'll ever be able to come back here, after, and something in his chest starts hurting. How is he going to live with himself now that he knows what it feels like to be held, to be kissed like that? He fantasizes about holding hands as they walk, a world where they could get on the same train, go home to the same apartment, spend the rest of the night together, wake up together. Two blocks before the station, he reaches out and links their hands together. Akechi looks at him, eyes wide in the dark, but doesn't let go until his train comes.

That night, Ren sleeps alone and dreams of another life.

\--

He opens his eyes, and it's like waking in time to see the sun set, backwards and disorienting like a particularly vivid dream— except instead of the sunset it's Goro's eyes glowing deep red in the slanted afternoon light.

He pulls away. He pulls away, from where he'd just kissed an apparition into being, because there's no other explanation for how Goro is here, sitting on his bed like a flesh-and-blood human being.

So he asks. "All this time you were alive, and you didn't think to tell me? You have my number. You could've called."

"I was kept busy by many things. Contrary to what you may think, my life doesn't revolve around you." Goro looks at Ren, at the wall, back at Ren, before his gaze settles on the floor. "Perhaps I didn't reach out sooner because I didn't think you would ever want to see me again."

That's ridiculous. That's utterly ridiculous. Ren stares at the polaroids on his wall. "That's... fair," he says. "I mean... we didn't really have the most stable of relationships. like, in general."

"That's an understatement." Goro looks back at him. "And yet here I am anyway. Despite... well, everything, I suppose there was no reason to keep pretending to myself that I didn't want to see you again." The corner of his lip twists up. "I was hoping that seeing you shut the door in my face would get you off my mind once and for all, but you seem to have a habit of ruining all my plans."

"Yeah, but you wouldn't have me any other way." Ren smirks back and leans over to bump Goro's shoulder with his own.

Goro shoves back. "Are you saying I'm only attracted to you because you're a walking disaster?"

"Oh, you know it." Ren sticks his tongue out and Goro rolls his eyes at him. "You like it when I fuck your shit up. 's why you're my rival."

"I don't think that's healthy," Goro sighs but doesn't deny it, and leans all his weight into Ren's side until they topple over onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs.

"It's hot," Ren mumbles into Goro's neck and wraps his arms around his waist, settling in closer. "But yeah, probably not great long term. Maybe we should go to like, marriage counseling, or whatever it's called."

"Marriage co- we're not married, Ren." Goro props himself up on an elbow to look down at Ren with a confused frown. "We're not even dating." He pauses. "Are we?"

Ren just smiles back up at him. "We are, if you want to be," he says. Seeing Goro's hesitation, he hastily adds, "You don't have to decide right this minute or anything. Um. Just... if you want."

Goro tilts his head, bites back a smile. "What an unconvincing way to ask someone out. I would've thought you'd do better the second time around."

"Shut up." Ren reaches his hand up to poke Goro's face and gets smacked away. "Being hopelessly in love with you made me lose all my brain cells."

Goro narrows his eyes at him. "Your stupidity isn't my damn fault." Then, "you aren't... still serious about that first part, are you?"

Oh. Of course. Ren's said it probably a dozen times but another dozen more still wouldn't get it through Goro's thick head. "No, I am. Sorry, hope you weren't expecting me to suddenly stop having feelings for you just because you were dead." He offers a wan half-smile. They've been through this. Maybe it doesn't count if it happened in a different reality.

"You should go to therapy for that," Goro replies drily.

"Ouch. Wow. That's harsh, even for you." Ren grins back up at him. He's not going to admit it, but he still likes it. "And what would I even tell them? 'Oh, my boyfriend tried to assassinate me, and then he died and came back to life a couple times, but I still like him so something's definitely wrong with me'?"

"I was being serious, you know." Other things Ren still likes: Goro's criminally adorable pout, and the way he runs his hand through Ren's hair, gentle and fond, brushing it out of his face. "If you still want to— to stay together, we have a lot to work through, more so than most people our age. It's not going to be easy."

"The last therapist we met who wanted to help us stay together was a madman who tried to brainwash us and usurp all of reality," Ren points out. 

"You're well within your rights to be distrustful, but..." Goro cups Ren's face in his hand, brushing his thumb across his cheek, and just looks at him for a second. "I do worry about you. When I first came in and saw you, you looked— really bad."

Ren snorts. "Gee, thanks."

"You looked worse than I've ever seen you," Goro adds. "Even when the Phantom Thieves were facing their downfall, you didn't look this exhausted. Or haunted, I suppose, is a better word for it. Like you haven't slept in days."

"Now that you mention it, it does feel like that. Guess it's just the depression finally setting in." Goro shoots him a look, and he laughs. "No, really. I mean, I've thought about it, you know? Back then, even though we were fighting constantly, not just to like, survive but also to prove ourselves to society... the days just felt so much easier. Maybe because we were so busy, or because I wasn't alone all the time. Then after I moved back here it's just—" he sighs. "The same thing every day. Too much time to think, nothing to do. No one to talk to besides my cat."

"You miss Tokyo," Goro says quietly, and Ren looks away. He does miss it, more than he knows how to express. It feels more like home than this town ever did. "You should visit more often. I'm sure your friends would love to see you."

"I've been, uh. Avoiding them, recently. I know they mean well, but I can't— yeah." He scrubs his face with the heels of his hands. How is he even going to apologize for that? Sorry, I just forgot to check my messages for two weeks straight. "Also, most of them don't even live in Tokyo anymore."

"Regardless, I think you should still consider talking to someone," Goro says. "For my sake, if not your own." He pauses to collect his thoughts, takes a deep breath in. "After we... went our separate ways, after defeating Maruki, I ended up in a rehabilitation center. The same one that my mother went to, when I was young. I don't fully recall how I made the decision, but I do remember that... it was difficult." 

"I— that's amazing. I'm really happy for you, and— and proud. I mean it." Suddenly, he's struck by the feeling that he's falling behind, that everyone he knows is moving on without him. That after that long year of hardship and change he's just stagnating, stuck reliving the past while isolated in an old, lonely house. Wasn't there supposed to be more to life than this? "I'm— glad it's been working out for you, I..."

Goro just sighs softly and tucks a loose strand of hair behind his ear. "That's the real reason I waited so long. To be honest, I hadn't originally planned on seeing you again. But I had this persistent feeling that—" he looks away, swallows— "that if I waited too long I would lose you."

"Lose me?" Ren repeats. "I'm not doing Metaverse stuff anymore, I'm just going to school like a normal person now." It's incredibly boring. Nothing has changed in over a year.

"I meant that I thought you would move on. Find someone else more worth your time." 

"I don't think there was ever any chance of that happening," Ren says, but his voice comes out all scratchy. He clears his throat.

"Even so, you acted almost like you'd never met me when I first came in. It didn't exactly make me feel wanted." Goro's gaze cuts back through him, pointed and unrepentant.

"I thought you were dead," Ren protests. "I thought it might've been another case of— of having you back, only to find out it's not real and that you're going to disappear again." Even pushing his fear out into the open between them feels wrong, like if he acknowledges it then Goro will just vanish into thin air.

"You continue to wound me with your expectations," Goro says. "But on the bright side, I suppose that means I can say this is the second time I've come back from the dead because of you." He presses a gentle kiss to Ren's cheek, gives him a brief smile that feels like a sunbeam.

You're going to be the death of me, Ren thinks, and then he says it out loud and Goro gives him a pained look like he's thinking  _ I've already been the death of you once _ . Ren just laughs and pulls Goro down to kiss him, breathing in the scent of rain and coffee lingering on his skin, and for a while they just let everything else fall away.

They resurface reluctantly for breath, and end up just gazing at each other in the slowly waning light. Ren thinks he's found home in the gentle affection on Goro's face— he wants to call it love, because it so obviously is, but this still feels so new and fragile. They've got the rest of their lives, now— measured in decades, not days— to work things out at their own pace without the end of the world bearing down upon them. 

"I didn't really think you would be waiting for me," Goro says quietly.

"I wasn't," Ren says. He runs his hands through Goro's soft, tousled hair and pulls it loose from the hair tie, the fine strands turning to spun gold in the light. "I thought I was never gonna see you again. But here we are."

"Here we are, despite all odds," Goro agrees. He sits up and his eyes wander over to the photos on the wall. "Everything feels like it happened so long ago, I can barely remember. Like I feel as if those pictures were taken in another lifetime."

"They sort of were, in a way." Ren makes a frame with his fingers like he often saw Yusuke do and centers it on Goro's face in profile. "I mean, you were dead, and then you weren't. And now you're not. But in spite of all that it was always you."

"To be honest, it made no difference to me then how I spent my time, whether it was with you or by myself. I was just waiting for everything to end, and time seemed to pass more quickly in your company." He looks back at Ren and then away again. "Being with you was... a mercy I felt I didn't deserve."

"You weren't just staying with me out of pity, were you?" He's thought about this far too much.

"No. I wanted to be with you." Goro looks back over again, his expression somewhere distant. "I know I never said anything. Perhaps because I doubted your resolve to continue fighting, if I were to tell you. Or because..." he twists his hands in his lap. "I was afraid."

"It's funny. I was scared too." Ren reaches over and takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. "But I just talked too much, instead. Said a lot of things I wasn't really ready to say."

"You told me you loved me," Goro says. He looks down at their joined hands, resting on top of the blankets.

"I did. I still do." 

"But?" he prompts.

"There's no 'but'. I said it so soon after we... uh, sorta got together? started dating? because I thought I was losing you, but that didn't make it any less true." Ren gently squeezes his hand.

"Hold on. We were not dating," Goro says incredulously, like Ren had failed to inform him of something momentously important.

"Yes, we were. We literally went on dates and held hands and stuff, what else would you call it?" Ren gestures at his wall. "I took pictures and everything, I'll show you." They get up to look and inwardly, Ren's a little relieved that they've managed to derail the conversation— it's a little too much all at once now. He unsticks a polaroid from the center of the collage and passes it to Goro. The picture shows Goro in profile, half-turned towards the camera with a knowing smile on his face. Behind him, a flock of crows lifts off from the street into a pale winter sky, the dark blur of wings framing the scene. The stars must have aligned or something for Ren to take this picture— or maybe it was just some weirdly specific actualization, but he prefers to think it's the former. "Get it? It's funny because you're Crow and there's also crows in the picture."

"Yes, I get it," Goro says, amused. "I... don't remember you taking this one. I do look good in it, though."

"I know, right? You look like some harbinger of chaos and doom," Ren says admiringly.

"Oh, I didn't just look like it," Goro responds offhandedly. "And you knew it. You had me fighting on the front lines next to you for that entire palace."

"Fine, but you're MY harbinger of death and destruction." He bats his eyelashes and Goro rolls his eyes at him. "Okay, okay, but you'd never know it looking at these," Ren adds, pointing to a set of two photos taped side by side. "Do you remember these? I had to bribe you with a chocolate crepe."

Goro's expression falters just slightly as he looks at the pictures. In the first one he's looking over his shoulder with an aloof, disinterested expression, but in the second one he's facing the camera and smiling, really smiling, glowing with a warmth he rarely displayed. Whether the smile was bought with sweets is irrelevant— it's still seared into the back of Ren's mind forever. But Goro reaches over and takes the picture off the wall, looking as if he'd never seen it before. "Ah, this is... did you take this in Shibuya? There was a cart there that sold crepes, if I'm not mistaken."

"No, this was from the time we went to the amusement park. We went on all the roller coasters and the ferris wheel and everything." Ren gives him an odd look. "Are you sure you don't remember?"

He watches as the confusion slowly dawns on Goro's face. "Now that you mention it, I might remember something like that." He rubs his eyes, suddenly looking exhausted. "But it's all sort of a blur, to be honest."

Ren pulls another photo off the wall and shoves it at him. "Please tell me you at least remember this." 

The image is slightly blurry from low lighting and long exposure, but it shows Goro sitting at the bar of Leblanc, his eyes deep red and brooding, a glass of something dark in his hands. The top buttons of his shirt are undone just so, his coat is hanging on the back of his chair, and there's a bottle on the counter beside him. The bar lights cast the angles of his face in a soft glow, as if he's the subject of a moody oil painting.

Ren hears Goro's breath catch, looks over to see the quiet dismay in his eyes. "I... don't have it anymore," he says softly, fiddling with his hands distractedly.

"Huh. Strange that it didn't make it out with you. Does that mean it worked?" Ren jokes, gives him a lopsided smile. "Well, it's fine. I think gold would've suited you better anyways."

Goro huffs. "What, are you going to buy me another one?"

"Only if it can be for real this time," Ren answers, grinning sheepishly.

"Oh, god." Goro drops his hands in his face, laughing helplessly. "That was such a miserable night."

"It was awful," Ren agrees. "And you didn't even say yes when I—"

"That was hardly a fair question! You weren't even asking seriously."

"Okay, but if I was, would you have said no?"

"Oh, shut it." Goro claps his hand over Ren's mouth, still smiling, and they jostle against each other until Ren's back hits the wall and he's laughing too, as an aching feeling lodges in his chest. He wants this forever, warmth and contentment, their arms around each other and noses bumping together as they're both smiling too much to really kiss properly. A hundred thousand possible endings, and this is the one they got. They're so lucky.

"You're staying... aren't you?" Ren murmurs as he pulls away just slightly. He doesn't want to relive that night ever again.

"I— really, I.." Goro makes a frustrated noise. "I suppose I could stay a little longer. If you really wanted me to."

"Always."  _ In every lifetime I would ask you to stay _ . It's cheesy and dumb, so he doesn't say it out loud. But there's a world for them now, a world that until a few hours ago existed only in his dreams. It's all he's ever wanted. "One second." Ren disentangles himself and heads over to his desk, and digs his old polaroid camera out of a drawer. He powers it on, fiddles with the settings, sees that he's got a couple pieces of film left in it— he turns around to see Goro hovering curiously over his shoulder.

"Don't you already have enough pictures of me?" Goro asks. "Not that i'm complaining."

"Just come here," Ren says, putting an arm around Goro's waist and pressing their sides together. He raises the camera at arm's length, facing towards them. "Smile! Or don't, I don't have any crepes to give you." He beams at the camera as Goro rolls his eyes and presses back against him just a little.

His heart full, Ren clicks the shutter.

\--

The bell on the door jangles pleasantly as it closes on Maruki's heel on his way out. Even as the absolute ruler of this utopian hell he somehow still manages to appear hapless and nonthreatening, Ren thinks, in the yawning silence he leaves behind him.

Decidedly less non-threatening is Goro's level glare, icy as the wind whipping snow against the windows outside. Safe in Leblanc's warm glow, Ren holds up his hands placatingly. "I know, I know. Nothing's changed. We're still gonna fight him tomorrow."

Goro doesn't relent. "Any chance you're going to suddenly change your mind?"

"I won't," Ren promises. "We made a deal. I knew what I was getting into."

"So you both knew all along, huh?" Morgana pipes up from where he's sitting on the table, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. "It must've been hard, these past couple of weeks."

"It's whatever at this point," Ren mumbles. It's actually the complete opposite of whatever, but he can have that crisis later when Maruki's been taken care of and Goro isn't around to watch him break into a million pieces for the second time in two months. "I think I'm just cursed. Whoever I kiss ends up dying within a few weeks, but  _ someone _ just can't stay away." Goro makes an affronted noise in response, and he laughs weakly.

Morgana raises an eyebrow— as much as a cat is able to raise an eyebrow, anyway. "It's certainly been a long road for the two of you. Kind of a shame that it has to end like this," he says, glancing at Ren. "And, Akechi..." he trails off.

Goro crosses his arms. "What?"

"...No, never mind." Morgana hops gracefully off the table and heads for the door. "I'll give you guys your space now. If you need anything, I'll be with Futaba." He casts one last glance at Ren over his shoulder before pushing the door open on his own and slipping out into the night.

Silence settles over them again. It's a waiting kind of silence, heavy and dull, stretching out the space between heartbeats. Waiting for the dread to creep in like the icy draft under the front door and lay in the shadows beneath the twinkling bar lights. But Ren is nothing if not overprepared for every battle, and he heads to the back of the kitchen to find what he'd been saving for this particular night. He opens a cabinet and reaches in— behind stacks of old pots and pans that Sojiro never uses, he grasps the neck of a heavy bottle and pulls it out. He's often wondered what effects something like this would have in the Metaverse, but he supposes he'll never know, now. All he'll ask of it in the real world is— well, he's never really drank before, but he hopes it'll ward off the cold for the night at the very least.

Goro gives him an appraising look as he brings the bottle to the counter. "I don't suppose there's a chance you obtained that legally?"

"I called in a favor from someone I helped out a while ago. She's uh, pretty well acquainted with alcohol, so this has gotta be the good stuff. Probably." Ren starts digging around in the drawers for a bottle opener. If he went to all this trouble to get the wine and ends up not being able to open it due to lack of foresight he is actually going to die.

"You're dragging innocent people into your criminal ways, is what you're doing." Goro takes off his coat and drapes it over the back of his usual seat at the bar, and sits down to watch Ren's increasingly panicked search for a corkscrew.

"She didn't turn me in when she found out I was a phantom thief, so technically this isn't even the first legally questionable thing she's done for me." At the bottom of a drawer full of yellowed recipes in neat, crisp handwriting and unused brewing equipment, Ren finally finds a corkscrew and triumphantly digs it out.

"There's nothing 'questionable' about it. Both of those things are blatantly illegal," Goro scoffs.

"Well, you're getting the benefits too, so you don't get to complain," Ren replies smugly.

"About you or the wine? I've got plenty of things I could say about you."

"Aw, you're gonna make me blush." Ren opens the wine and pours it into two crystal glasses he'd borrowed from Sojiro's house, sliding one across the counter.

Goro picks up his glass carefully and examines it for a second. "We should make a toast," he says.

"To... what?" Ren mulls it over. "To the fact that we might all die horribly tomorrow? To our last night on earth."

"Toasts are generally supposed to be celebratory," Goro says mildly.

"Okay, fine. To... your freedom, then. Which you will get by dying tomorrow." Ren raises his glass.

Goro sighs. "To my freedom." 

They clink their glasses together and drink. The wine has a smooth, distinctive flavor, the intricacies of which are lost on Ren as he makes a face at the taste and downs the rest of his glass anyway. He pours himself another one, and walks out from behind the bar to take a seat next to Goro. It gives a familiar creak under his weight as he settles in.

"You're not seriously still hung up about that, are you?" Goro asks after a while. His fingers tap rhythmically on his glass with carefully measured impatience. A gust of wind howls outside, rattling the door.

"You can't— you can't just ask someone that," Ren says, setting his drink down on the counter with a little too much force. "This is your entire life, how can you just talk about it like— like it's irrational, or petty, that I'd be upset about it?"

"Well, you don't want to talk about it at all," Goro retorts. "Do you expect me to be able to read your mind whenever it's convenient for you and know what you're feeling?"

"Do you even care what I feel? Because you keep acting like none of this is supposed to hurt me at all," Ren snaps. Of course things spill over at the literal worst time possible. It's them. Why did he expect anything else?

"It wouldn't be a problem if you didn't get so lost in your own head thinking you had to uphold some responsibility to  _ save _ me," Goro returns through gritted teeth. "Your savior complex is so fucking infuriating. If you think you can control who gets to live and who gets to die, you're no better than Maruki."

"This was never about being a hero!" Ren forces himself to take a deep breath, lowers his voice— "You know that even then I loved you? I did."— and he watches Goro's expression go carefully blank. "I wanted to save you because I was selfish and I wanted you to live."

The corner of Goro's lip twitches. "There's nothing left worth saving. Why do you insist on-"

"Oh my god, you are so full of shit." Ren sighs and drops his head into his hands, the anger fading as quickly as it had come. "Ugh. I don't want to fight, I just... yeah. I don't want to talk about this."

Goro just wordlessly pours himself another glass and takes a long sip. Ren watches him through his fingers, fixated on the way his eyes catch the light, liquid and dark as his wine and twice as intoxicating. The honest, worn weariness on his face, the sharp edges mellowed by soft lighting, add to his allure in a way that the flawless, untouchable detective prince facade never could— his dark humor, his bitter rage, this truth of him that Ren only gets to know for a few cold, gray weeks. And it isn't nearly enough. The one thing this garbage fake reality won't give him is one more day, two more days to sort out the wreck of his emotions before the end comes reeling in. What he really wants is time, time to get to know Goro for who he really is and not just the anger that drives him, to keep falling asleep with their hearts pressed close together, to go on real dates and not just sort-of half-dates that they don't call dates, to fall in love more slowly and softly than their circumstances had allowed them.

He wonders if Goro even feels the same way. Even if he does, there's no way to get it out of him. He's as difficult to read as ever, nursing his drink, sitting with his legs crossed, his eyes a thousand miles away. Quietly, Ren pulls his camera out of his bag, turns off the flash, frames the shot at just the right angle— the shutter goes off with a click, and the device whirrs and spits out the photo. 

"Why do you bother taking those? You know they're just going to disappear once you go back?" Goro looks over, turning his head just slightly.

"Dunno," Ren shrugs. "I'm hoping I'll get to keep them, though." The photo isn't perfect— it's slightly blurry and some parts of it are too dark, but the thing he most wanted to capture— Goro's distant, moody expression— is lit beautifully. There's a kind of soul to it, a still frame that holds a quiet candor. He slides it over the counter. "I think this one turned out pretty well. Wanna see?"

"No." Goro turns away again impassively and sips his drink.

Fine. Ren takes the photo back and slips it into his coat pocket. It nestles within the multitudes of random memories he has stashed away— old ticket stubs from the aquarium, a tattered folded-up drinks menu, an emotional support right-handed black leather glove. A stale packet of novelty snacks, extra lockpicks he made during class, a ring for boosting defensive capabilities or something that he had bought on impulse but never remembered to try equipping in the Metaverse. He runs his thumb over the smooth metal band, hidden in his pocket. "Do you think all this was all just pointless and futile?"

"It depends on what you mean by 'all this.'"

Ren sighs. "You know what I mean."

"Do I?" Goro's voice drips with sarcasm. "I don't suppose it would kill you to just be straightforward and say what you're thinking for once?"

"Okay. Okay, fine. I mean, I liked being with you, the past few weeks. I just..." Ren falters, turns the cold metal of the ring over on his fingertips, collects his thoughts. "You know I like you. A lot. You could at least tell me if you feel the same way."

Goro turns away again, staring into the depths of his drink. A few seconds pass before he speaks, carefully flat and monotone. "It hardly matters. We have more important things to contend with right now."

"I think you do," Ren continues. "You're here with me, isn't that proof enough that you like me too? That this matters to you?" He gets no response other than a vague, noncommittal noise. "Hey, Goro."

"I already told you, I don't—"

"No, just give me your hands for a second." Ren holds out his free hand, the one that isn't in his pocket, and Goro turns and reluctantly places his own hands into Ren's. Ren takes out the ring and slips it onto Goro's right hand— probably not even the hand it's supposed to go on, but he doesn't really care. "Might as well, right? Til death do us part, and all that."

"I— what? You can't be serious." Goro stares at the silver band on his finger, looks up at Ren incredulously, then back down at his hand, his eyes wide.

"Can't I be? Does it matter?" Ren gets to his feet and pulls goro along with him, swaying a little. He's warm with the slight buzz of the alcohol and the way Goro grabs him when he stumbles over his own feet, pulling him close against his chest. In a different life he could've found home here, in steady arms and the heady scent in the crook of Goro's neck under his loose shirt collar and the kiss pressed to the top of his head. He aches, and aches, and aches. "Because you won't remember this, wherever you're going." He sways slowly to the left.

"I'm not going— what are you doing?" Goro steps with him, matching his movements.

"We're dancing. I've always wanted to dance with you." He loops his arms over Goro's shoulders and slowly steps one, two, three to the sound of the wind in the alleyways and the creaking of the building. The almost-painful thud of his own heart. 

"Is this how dancing works?" Goro asks, doubtful, as he steps on Ren's toes unapologetically. 

"I dunno. It is now." Ren is tempted to direct his highly dubious box step over Goro's toes in return. It ends up happening anyway, mostly on accident. What he wouldn't give for some of that Metaverse grace now, to move as fluidly and instinctively as he does in battle, to have that intrinsic way of knowing each other's movements when they fight side by side, feeding into each other's energy. He can picture it so easily— an old fantasy that's crossed his mind too many times to count— fleeing with stolen treasure across the rooftops of Tokyo on a starless night, Goro in relentless pursuit, the sea of neon lights below them a world away. Ren would let himself be caught in exchange for a dance, or Goro would challenge him to one the same way he'd asked for a duel, and they would feel the tension build in a deafening crescendo as they spin closer and closer until— well, the ending depends on Ren's mood, but he's long since resigned himself to the fact that his detective was never going to chase him across any rooftops, Metaverse or no. Now, he'd settle for being able to dip Goro without dropping him, just to see the look on his face. Maybe for the romance, too. Without Joker's mask and endless bravado, he's just Ren, face to face with the person he— the person he loves, no more pretenses, no more what ifs.

"Let me lead," Goro says, bringing Ren back to the present. He places one hand on Ren's waist and takes his hand with the other. In Ren's head they would switch leads seamlessly, almost aggressively, each trying to raise the stakes and outshine the other as is the wont of rivals, but they just stumble against each other at a brisker tempo than before.

"You're not any better at this than I am," Ren points out. He tries to predict the direction of Goro's next step and gets it wrong, and they collide briefly.

Goro huffs indignantly. "It wouldn't hurt if you tried a little harder to follow me," he says, accidentally kicking Ren in the shin. He makes a frustrated noise.

"Relax, it's fine. It doesn't matter, no one's watching us." Ren leans in to rest their foreheads together, and Goro acquiesces with a sigh, letting his arms drop to circle Ren's waist again. "Just imagine if we— if we got to dance at the school festival, or something. Embarrass ourselves in front of everyone like normal teenagers."

"You could say you did. Blackmail is its own form of dance," Goro offers with a smirk.

"Right, that was sooo sexy of you." Ren makes a face. "Shut up."

"No, I don't think I will," Goro says, indistinct shadows flitting across his face as they turn. "Besides, after tomorrow, I won't be saying much of anything ever again. You'll get your wish in due time."

Ren just sighs. Be careful what you wish for, right? Except he can't help what his heart wants, not now, not ever, and if what that stupid traitorous piece of him wants is a dumb smart beautiful boy with red eyes and a kill count and no sense of self preservation who's looking at him right now with this deep, yearning affection that he always used to hide, then. Then he's just going to spend the rest of his life wanting and wanting and wanting until he dies. He breathes in, turns them to the left slowly as they move, steps one, two, three in time with the clock running down to zero in his head. They should've been doing this months ago. and now they're never going to do this again. 

They move like the heavens, momentous and languid, spinning with the same inevitability possessed by the earth's rotation, or by the encroaching dawn. By the death of the universe. The room, the city, the world turns gently around them in the night, the same sheltering sky as it's always been when they're in each other's company. The dream is ending, Ren thinks, watching stars collide behind Goro's eyes as they dip closer, as he kisses him slowly, as he feels deft fingers slip under his shirt to glide over his stomach. He closes his eyes and surrenders himself to the heat of Goro's hips pinning him against the bar counter, the soft, sweet pressure of tongues sliding between parted lips, the quiet realization that he is now and forever ruined for anybody else as his awareness melts away into bliss, warm skin and unwavering attention. They ebb and flow and pull apart just enough to catch their breath, still clinging to each other because letting go would feel too much like braving the cold and dark alone, like passing a point of no return. Goro glows in the low, honeyed light, a deep flush across his cheeks, the heavy rise and fall of his chest as familiar as his own heartbeat, sorrow written plain as day in his eyes for the very first time since Ren met him all those months before.

He can't let go.

Distantly he's aware of Goro lifting his glasses off his face and placing them on the counter, gently brushing away the tears welling up and streaming down his cheeks. The silver band glints in the light. A promise for a promise that will never— god he feels so pathetic and useless, falling apart like this, being comforted by the one who's next sunrise will be his last. He aches like it's going to split him apart. "I love you," he says miserably. His voice trembles.

Goro says nothing, just cradles Ren's face in his hands and presses a kiss beneath his eye. A shuddering sob drags its way out of Ren's chest and he pulls Goro into a crushing embrace, soaking his pristine white shirt collar in tears. It's not fair. It's not fair. He can't just leave like this. There's still so much of life for them to live together. There's still so much to say. There's no more time.

_ Pull yourself together. _ He breathes in on the count of one, two, three. He shudders. Out— one, two, three. In— one, two- it's no use. Something in his chest clenches, painful and bright and singular. He grits his teeth and lets it carry him out to sea.

He loses track of the time before the waves come far enough apart for him to breathe evenly. Adrift in the shallows, he anchors himself in Goro's soothing touch, buoyed by a strange new sense of calm. The wind outside has since died down, snow piled in drifts against the window, quieter than his own slow, uncertain breaths. Reluctantly, he peels himself away from Goro and unceremoniously wipes his face with his sleeve.

Goro, at once Ren's life raft and the wreckage, gently pulls his hand away from his face. Lighthouse in the storm and the storm itself, tenderly clearing away the aftermath of disaster with a silk handkerchief from his pocket, visage no longer clouded with regret. He just looks at Ren for a long moment. "You'll be okay," he finally says.

Ren can't help giving him a watery grin. "Are you gonna miss me?" he says, his voice all low and rough.

Goro sighs and then opens his mouth and closes it without saying anything, because of course he doesn't say anything. He laces his fingers with Ren's and looks down at the ring adorning his hand, lonely without one on Ren's to match.

"It's supposed to help you survive in battle," Ren says. "If you wear it tomorrow it'll protect you." Not that Goro isn't tough as nails and capable of surviving almost anything— but to the end, he goes only on his own terms.

"Tomorrow," he echoes softly. They both look at the clock. The Day of Fates is already marching on into its second hour.

"Tonight." The sobering realization and complete, utter exhaustion all crash into Ren at once. "Let's just go to bed. Okay?" 

Goro nods and blinks and looks away, and together they drift up the stairs and across the attic floor. They fumble with buttons and clasps in the dark, leaving their clothes on the floor and crawling beneath the blankets, pressed together like they're trying to melt into one person. The quiet settles over them, broken only by the space heater glowing dimly a few feet away, its steady hum a greater comfort than the meager warmth it offers. Ren closes his eyes and listens to the rise and fall of Goro's breathing, a quiet rhythm etching away the darkness for the blue dawn to steal in through the window, silent like a thief, come to rightfully claim what's already long gone.

\--

By the time they make it downstairs, the sun is hanging low in the sky and shining directly through the window in Ren's kitchen like a blinding, malevolent orb. Morgana, curled up in a patch of sunlight on a cushion, yawns and opens his eyes— and jumps to his feet in surprise.

"Akechi?! You're... alive? What did I miss while I was out? And—" Morgana's eyes flick between the two of them. Ren is suddenly very aware of how they must look, standing this close to each other with their clothes rumpled and hair mussed, and Goro even wearing Ren's clothes. "Wait. Did you guys—"

"No! No, we did not." Goro storms past them into the kitchen and abruptly starts flinging open cabinets.

"Pots and pans are in the lower left," Ren calls after him. "Honestly didn't think you were gonna say it, Mona."

"That was  _ not _ what I was gonna ask!" Morgana shudders. "You know what, never mind. I don't want to know."

A monstrous clatter issues from the kitchen, followed by an emphatic " _ shit! _ " Ren looks over to see goro crouched on the floor surrounded by a pile of cookware toppling out of the cabinet. "Why do you own so many pans?!" he demands, hefting a cast iron out of the pile and setting it on the stove with a violent  _ CLANG _ .

Ren sighs and starts pulling ingredients out of the fridge. "Never had the heart to get rid of any. Can you peel these and cut them up into chunks?"

Goro stares doubtfully at the carrots and potatoes and onions. "Of course. Who do you take me for?"

There's a strange moment as Ren hands him a knife, then it passes as quickly as it came. Morgana doesn't seem to notice, hopping up on the counter to watch attentively as Ren starts grilling chicken in the pan.

"I'm returning to Tokyo tomorrow morning. My train leaves around noon," Goro says casually, shoving aside a row of empty bottles to make room for the cutting board, sending a few clattering to the floor. He ignores them and starts chopping the vegetables into chunks of vastly uneven shapes and sizes.

"So you're staying the night?" Ren turns his head to look at him a little too fast, too hopefully— augh, it doesn't matter, there's no point to playing it cool anymore when he's already spent almost two years pining like an idiot.

"I suppose it wasn't the smartest decision to assume you would let me stay overnight when I bought the tickets, but..." Goro trails off and pops a piece of carrot in his mouth, crunching loudly.

"But you know me too well," Ren finishes for him. 

Goro pauses. "It's rather reassuring to hear that's how you feel," he says around his mouthful of carrot.

"Uh, what does that mean? Goro?"

"Can you guys flirt later? The food's about to burn," Morgana interrupts them, staring at the pan with a disproportionate amount of concern.

"Relax, it's fine, I got it under control." Ren dumps the onions into the pan and turns the heat down, and promptly gets distracted again. "So. You didn't even have a plan beyond just showing up at my doorstep?"

"Are you saying my confidence in you was undeserved?" Goro leans idly against the counter, flipping the kitchen knife around in his hands like he's assessing its weight with a strangely fluid ease that probably has nothing to do with cutting vegetables.

"No, it's just unlike you to not design some convoluted plan and consider every possible angle before you go into something." Ren eyes the flash of the blade as it passes from hand to hand. "Don't drop that, it's my only good knife."

"Things never seem to go according to plan where you're concerned. You always manage to surprise me somehow, and today was no exception." Goro looks up at him, setting down the knife.

"Well then, maybe you should stick around and find out what I've got planned for—"

"Reeennnnn," Morgana complains.

"Alright, okay, fine." He slips Morgana a piece of chicken and slides the rest into a pot with the vegetables and water. Goro stands by looking vaguely lost as he tosses in a myriad of spices until the aroma of curry fills the kitchen, mingling with the coffee from earlier in a way that evokes Leblanc's atmosphere, the background chatter of the customers and the distant sounds of the city outside. Ren has to pause for a second, abruptly and intensely nostalgic, homesick even though he's technically already home.

"I still don't understand how you just throw in all these random things and it makes curry," Goro says, peering at the gently simmering pot.

"Muscle memory," Ren jokes. "It's actually been forever since I made this. I bought all these spices and stuff when I moved out here and they've just been sitting around ever since. Here, try this and tell me if I've still got it." He scoops up some curry and holds out the spoon.

Goro leans forward and takes the bite straight off the spoon. "Hmm," he says thoughtfully, suddenly unable to look Ren in the eye.

"Too hot?" Ren suggests. Morgana groans loudly.

"It's fine." Goro glares at him defiantly.

"Here, let me have a taste." Ren slides over and kisses him, spoon still in hand. "I think it's done. Hey wait, Mona, where are you going?" to which Morgana stalks back into the kitchen, grumbling under his breath about being owed tuna for his long-suffering patience.

After dinner they find themselves on the couch in the dusty living room, a movie playing on low volume on the old, dusty TV. Goro lays with his head in Ren's lap, dozing lightly, and Morgana perches on the arm of the couch, having graciously accepted the loss of his usual spot. Ren closes his eyes and tries to commit the peaceful moment to memory, the settling dusk bringing calm instead of unease for the first time since he returned.

"You look happy," Morgana says, his soft voice breaking through Ren's thoughts.

He opens his eyes, looks over. "Right now? Yeah, I guess I am." 

Morgana gazes back at him, blue eyes gleaming in the low light. "After all you've been through, you deserve to be happy. Ever since we moved here I've been worried about you, but I never really knew what to say. It's a huge relief to see you doing better."

"Thanks, Monamona, you're the best." Ren grins. "I promise I'll buy you that tuna soon for putting up with me."

"You'd better." Morgana curls up comfortably in his spot, resting his head on his paws. "So... are you gonna tell the others?"

Ren lets his head drop back against the couch cushions. "I mean... eventually, yeah. It was hard enough keeping it from them during that whole reality thing."

"For the record, I was definitely not the only one who knew," Morgana says, amused. "You two were  _ not _ subtle."

Ren huffs indignantly. "Okay, well, my point is that I don't want to hide this from them. Whatever this is now, I don't want it to go away." He runs his hand gently through Goro's hair, and he stirs. Ren makes a face down at him. "Even though he's abandoning me again tomorrow."

"You lived without me for a year, I have faith that you can survive another month or so until you graduate." Goro's voice is warm with drowsiness, wrapping around them like a blanket.

"I  _ guess _ ," Ren sighs dramatically. "Hey, come to think of it— how did you— you know, make it out alive, anyway?"

Goro's gaze slowly drifts to the ceiling and then beyond to somewhere distant, his brow furrowing slightly. "It's strange. I have memories of dying. Then living again, after that, and... of being with you, though it seems I don't fully remember everything. I'm not really sure myself how it happened." His eyes focus back on Ren and he reaches up to touch his face. "When I first woke up— things tended to conflict, and overlap, and ... it felt like mistaking a dream for a memory. And I thought, what's real anymore? Certainly I must not be. But even so, I..." he falters, glances away for a brief second. "I thought of you the most. And I thought that if you were real, then so was I."

"That's— I'm—" Ren grasps for words. "You're too sweet."

"It's just how I felt," Goro says, somewhat defensively. He hesitates. "I wish we had a little more time. There's so much I want to tell you."

"Well, you're not goin' anywhere tonight. So c'mon, tell me," Ren insists, gently poking his cheek.

And as Goro opens his mouth to indulge him the night begins to slide by, the hours slipping through their fingers as they talk and talk and fall through the last two years and back into each other, the sky turning from black to deep blue. They don't remember falling asleep, but they wake up together under blankets they don't remember getting and it finally feels like they're on the same shore, beneath the same sky.

They make it to the station with only a few minutes to spare. The announcer makes one last call for any remaining passengers, and Goro barely has time to drop a kiss onto Ren's cheek and dash onto the train right before the doors close. And then suddenly Ren is standing alone on the platform, watching a gray speck vanish into the gray horizon, only the echo of rushing air and a promise left in its wake.

He wanders into the station cafe to meet back up with Morgana and gets a text a few minutes later— "I should've dragged you onto this damn train with me"— to which he replies "I miss you too", and nearly sends something even sappier before changing his mind and deleting it. He leans against the window with his coffee and watches the sky darken and the rain start to pour, heavy droplets pattering against the glass in a soothing rhythm and sending commuters outside scurrying for cover. He touches his cheek and brings his fingers to his lips and quietly, something within him slowly begins to shift as he thinks of the future, and he doesn't feel so alone.

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SN9efAODYBg


End file.
